


Placed Side by Side

by AllAroundTheArts



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, M/M, Major Character Undeath, POV Multiple, Post-Reichenbach, slight canon alteration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:25:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllAroundTheArts/pseuds/AllAroundTheArts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been more than two and a half years since Sherlock faked his own death.  John, who didn't know that Sherlock survived, fakes his own suicide a month before Sherlock comes back from being "dead." When Sherlock does come back, he gets a case about Jim Moriarty (who also faked his own suicide) and gets so lost in it that he forgets all about John's death. Afterwards, Sherlock remembers John and makes his way to the cemetery, where he breaks down at the sight of both John's and his headstones, placed side by side. Little does he know that John was right there, waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blog Entry: That's Basically What Happened

_You see, there’s just not much to it. I was shot during my service in Afghanistan and was sent home invalidated. While back in London, I nearly tripped over a bag full of notes about tobacco ash all signed by someone with the initials “SH.” After some research from the notes, I found my way to Sherlock Holmes. From there, it took four years to come about the oddest way to form a relationship.  
 **Posted 18:20 on 29 August 2014 by J H Watson**_


	2. Taking a Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback in John's POV.  
> Disclaimer: All text from the script belongs to the authors and the BBC. No copyright infringement intended. The rest of the plot, spawned from various prompts, belongs to me.

**John. 2010**

_It hasn’t been long since I’ve been invalidated. A couple months, probably. Sitting alone in the miserable excuse of a flat, I decided to get off my arse and take a walk. I wasn’t going to get anything done if I just stayed in here. Ella, my therapist, wants me to write on my blog. How the hell am I supposed to do that if I don’t do anything with my life? However, even if I do something that seems productive, nothing interesting ever really happens to me._

_I walked to Russell Square Park, stopping only to get some coffee on the way there. Better keep my other hand busy instead of staying limp at my side while the other hand holds me up with my cane. My leg…damn my leg. It’s been of worse use to me than my shoulder has been; both of them got me invalidated. Now, here, I’m just a bit bored. Scratch that, I’m extremely bored.  
I took my coffee and headed over to the park across the street. Walking along, I watched as children ran through the grass, their mothers standing under a tree not too far away, idly chatting. In the distance, I hear a faint call of my name._

_“John!” My name is fairly common; whoever that was, he probably wasn’t calling me._

_“John Watson!” Okay, that’s probably me. I turned around and saw a bloke who seemed familiar, but I couldn’t really place my finger on his name. He probably registered the blank look I most likely had on my face and introduced himself._

_“Stamford, Mike Stamford.” Right. We were sort-of mates back in the day. “We were at Barts together. Yes, I know, I got fat,” he gestured to his magnified body._

_“No, no,” I mumbled offhandedly. We found an empty bench to sit on and I plopped onto the seat, my legs relieved from the pressure they endured from the walk._

_“So are you still at Barts then?”_

_He nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee from a stand that we passed by. “Teaching now. Bright young things, just like we used to be. God, I hate them.” We both chuckled at that._

_After a while of catching up, we kind of just sat there in silence. My left hand started shaking, so I moved my now empty coffee cup over and then tightly clenched hand into a fist. Mike cleared his throat. “Well, I’d best be off. My lunch was over about ten minutes ago.” He stood up from the bench and stretched a bit. We had been sitting for a while; to be quite frank, my own arse was quite numb by then._

_I stood up as well. I checked the time on my phone—twenty minutes since we stopped to chat._

_The two of us said our goodbyes and then Mike headed off in the direction of Barts. I stood still for a moment. It was the first time since I got back to London that I had a simple encounter with an old friend. There, I hope Ella is happy now. I’ve had an encounter like a normal citizen._

_Tipping up my cane from where it lay on the bench, I prepared for the journey back to my flat. Right when I lifted the cane to take a step, I nearly fell over. I looked down and saw that the cane had caught onto the leather strap of a medium sized bag.  
Was it Stamford’s? I didn’t remember seeing him with a bag. I sat back down bringing the bag up off the ground and onto my lap. Jesus, it was a bit heavy. Who in their right mind would lug this around? _

_Gripping the zipper, I slowly unzipped the bag, partially afraid of what I would find there. I peeked inside, and all that greeted me was a pile of post-it notes in various colors. I rummaged through and pulled out a few to read. They were all notes about...tobacco ashes? What the bollocks is this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry if the actual script part pisses you off, it's just that I needed to set up for the actual story.  
> The first few chapters will be a bit short, but they should get longer as time goes on, don't worry.


End file.
